In a Journey's Spire
by Keithan
Summary: People could only have mere speculations and mere glimpses of a life, of friendships and of a companionship all too complex to comprehend, with depths too deep to even reach, in a journey in its spiral and apogee. [1x4x1; relatively long one-shot]


**a/n: **When I started this, it was completely different. But then, it changed and I completely found myself in an unknown territory in terms of narrative and style. It gears away from the usual style of narrative that I am accustomed to writing or reading, so this has been a fun adventure.

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**Title:** _In a Journey's Spire_  
**Author:** Keithan  
**Disclaimers:** Gundam Wing and its characters belong to their respective owners.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Series:** One-shot although this may run in the same timeline as _This Race We Run_  
**Warnings:** None  
**Pairings:** 1x4x1  
**Summary: **People could only have mere speculations and mere glimpses of a life, of friendships and of a companionship all too complex to comprehend, with depths too deep to even reach, in a journey in its spiral and apogee.  
**Notes: **This fic, focused on H and Q and the other three pilots, is set years, years, years down the road, around 10 years or more after Endless Waltz.  
**Important Note **(for ffn's benefit) I'd like to point out that this is NOT, in any way, an interactive story or choose your adventure kind of work. It is an introspective piece of some sort. Having a 'you' doesn't immediately mean interactive story. _The second person format has been used in at least a few popular novels (Wikipedia). _Because although at times this fic will use the 'you' pronoun, it does not actually refer to the reader but to the unnamed people that might be in the anime, like a circus goer to Trowa's circus or the little kid in EW, or one of the reporters that follow important people and so on. So that aside, have a go, read ahead and read of Quatre and Heero and the pilots _in the spire of their journey_.

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**In a Journey's Spire  
**_by Keithan _

_-o-o-o-_

_Spire (Spire), n. (L. spira coil, twist; akin to Gr. : cf. F. spire.)  
1. A spiral; a curl; a whorl; a twist. --Dryden.  
(1913 Webster) _

_Spire (Spire), n.  
4. The top, or uppermost point, of anything; the summit.  
(1913 Webster). (1) _

_-o-o-o-_

People would sometimes see them leaving together, walking side by side out of the WEI building at the end of one working day. They would not be standing close, but they would be close enough for others to tell that they knew each other. If people were standing near enough, they would feel the air around the two to be somewhat comforting and natural, telling them of a bond they shared, or of a silent intimacy that even with the ample space between the two men, they'd know it didn't actually matter because the two were connected… somehow, some way.

Quatre Winner and Heero Yuy.

If you were to ask him when it happened and how it happened, Quatre would not exactly know what to answer. He'd merely smile and shrug, and he'd probably say, "It doesn't really matter, you know," and with a chuckle, he'd continue, "It just did."

You'd probably wonder at that.

Quatre Raberba Winner, CEO of Winner Enterprises, had everything one could ever ask for and more. He was one of the most influential men in the Earth Sphere. He had the wealth, the brain to use it and the heart to use it well. He had men ready to do his every bidding, friends who he considered as his own family, an unhealthy amount of female siblings, and connections to almost everything – it was nearly absurd – that were more than enough for him that he could live practically without anything and rely on his connections alone. He was a prince of modern times, a nobility in all but title, and he, of course, had Heero Yuy.

_'Who?' _you might ask.

Heero Yuy, and no, he was not the same man as the pacifist colonist leader Heero Yuy who was assassinated in the year AC 186. Rather, he was the more anonymous, yet no less important Heero Yuy, more known as Pilot 01, one of the five distinct Gundam pilots during the Eve Wars of AC 195 and 196. Not much was known to the public of Pilot 01. He was even reported to have disappeared after the wars. He would, however, always be known as the pilot who saved the Earth, a final act which eventually closed the war of AC 195, and the pilot who had given the hope for victory in the nearly losing battle of AC 196's attempted coup d'état. In military records though, Pilot 01's skills were unparalleled, surpassing even normal human limitations, or what defines _human limitations _before he came.

Not all pilots who participated in the war were given recognition with a number. It would be an insane and ridiculous thing to do considering that there were at least a hundred pilots in one unit alone, and as it was the age of mobile suits, the war was fought with them. Only five numbers, corresponding to the five Gundam pilots, would go down in history, not only because of the pilots' skills and talents, not to mention their competence and efficiency in battle, but also because of the what they had been through, which people could only speculate about, of what they had done, what they fought for, their ideals and beliefs that had led them through the war, their nobility, courage and heroism, and the symbol they had become in the time of peace.

Some still harbored deep grudges and hate against them, even as some had already learned to understand what they had done and accepted them as their hope for peace. Yet people could merely speculate about the lives and identities of these pilots.

But still, once in a while, a special interview would be aired, or a special edition magazine would be printed that told of an anecdote of any of the pilots' sightings during the war – a meager glimpse of a life too hidden and too complex to know and comprehend fully – all told from the eyes of living witnesses. Yet not all of this would be true as some would just claim falsely for the attention.

Those that were, however, would have witnesses who had taken months, some years, to dwell on the things they had seen and months more to finally have the courage to tell of it. They would speak of it to the whole Earth Sphere that people might at least have a story to hold on to, some tangible evidence that these pilots had indeed lived. But of course, these were often looked at with a careful eye, especially since there were still many who look warily at the terms Gundam and pilots, much more when combined.

Stories, just stories, fiction or not, no one knew. No one knew what tales were true and what were just mere delusions of battle-wearied minds.

But what was truth to a world broken to pieces by the constant hammering of wars filled with the webs of lies and deceit? What was truth to a once dying race, threatened not by predators but by its own kind?

But to pursue answers to such questions would be a digression.

As what had been already stated, not all pilots were given recognition with a number. Only the numbers 01, 02, 03, 04, and 05 were significant enough, the only numbers that mattered. Such numbers would never be the same again as association with the five Gundam pilots dignified them, placed them in a pedestal for their significance.

Children would call themselves 01, and run around with a wooden stick or a plastic machine gun for a petty attempt to imitate the beam rifle; or 02 and run around with a blanket on their shoulders trying to be invisible and a curved stick in hand; or 03 and continuously shout 'ratatatatatatatat' until the need for air would force them to stop; or 04 and run around to recruit others to be their _'Mangganac' _sometimes ' _Magonac' _(or any other versions thereof) fighters, all the while with two plastic swords in hand which they futilely try to bend; or even 05 and arm themselves with a long wooden stick, sometimes pretending that they were dragons spouting fire. This was, of course, before their parents would chastise them and wonder where they had learned so and so, and such and such.

So what, you might ask, was the significance of the entire history lesson on Quatre Raberba Winner except for his association with Heero Yuy, Pilot 01?

Well, Quatre was a pilot himself, and yes, a pilot _with a number _, and after all that was already said, you should know what that meant by now. Pilot 04 he was called, and he was the undisputable master behind the Gundam team in terms of strategy and tactics. He brought the team as one, acting as the bind that tied the five pilots who had been so used to fighting alone together as one whole and effective unit. His mind was sharp, eyes quick to see all the possibilities the horizon had to offer, and his intelligence gave him the command, the leadership that served as a shining beacon in the darkness of space. It was not merely the strength of the Gundams and the excellent piloting of each of their pilots that made them stand victorious against such overwhelming odds of Mobile Dolls, and you should now probably stop wondering how he became the best there was in his job as CEO at such a seemingly green age of his twenties, and to think he was already on top before then. If you knew him intimately enough to know what had just been told, there would be no doubt there in the first place. He was the strategist of the Gundam team – he was bound to be on top of the corporate chain with no one coming close enough to his caliber.

These highly confidential facts (even with inside talks in the Preventers that these five pilots comprised the so-called highly trained Elite Preventer Unit that most weren't even sure existed) were kept in strict secrecy. Because of this, they, the five of them, were at least granted a chance in normalcy, or as close to normalcy as an ex-Gundam pilot could achieve. They could not, however, prevent the shocked stares in the streets, or the dropped cases of beers in grocery stores when they'd be spotted by someone whose lives and past had, at some point, crossed theirs. Most of these just amused them, though, as these people, mostly ex-Oz or ex-Federation soldiers, perhaps medical volunteers who helped with the closing of AC 195's war, would be stunned enough or would take long enough to dig up their memories to actually take a confirmatory glance. Needless to say, by then, they would've already melted into the background and blended once more with the crowd, leaving those people with but a wonder if they had been mistaken or if they had really seen anyone at all.

Nevertheless, those who did recognize or know them understood them more than those people who just saw them at a distance. People who had a chance to actually exchange words with them learned enough of their cause and respected them enough as individuals to keep their secrets locked away in their own memories alone, never to be spoken except in anonymity. These people and the soldiers who had seen and could recognize any of the five Gundam pilots anywhere understood the important fact that society was yet to be ready to be given names and faces to such important figures of history. Besides, there were no tangible evidences to prove their identities otherwise.

Going back to Pilot 01 and Pilot 04, they lived their lives with the Earth Sphere generally oblivious to their hidden identities. They lived in silence with what minimal exposure (with the definition of _minimal exposure _to be looked under the Winner dictionary) they could afford given the Winner name and the high status of Quatre. Of all five, he was the most exposed to the public, but as such, those who had memories of that blonde pilot of Gundam 04 would just shrug and say, "That Winner looks familiar," or probably even, "If I didn't know he was the lone heir to their fortune, I'd swear he has a twin or that Gundam pilot used him as a disguise, a good disguise if I ever see one," or the more sure of them would just look at his picture on a magazine or on the television and just shut up, not wanting to be the receiving end of bizarre looks for even hinting something so ridiculous, and would wonder what had caused someone such as him to leave the shelter and comfort of his home for the battlefield.

There had been issues, of course, but they remained only as such, only speculations. After all, hiding in plain sight was one of Quatre's favored tactics, and people had no way to know that.

But past was past. History, no matter how much it resembled an endless waltz would never repeat in the exact same way again. Quatre's life as a Gundam pilot was a thing of the past that had shaped him to who he was now – memories would be both cherished and resented. Regrets and guilt would probably remain as a constant shadow of a past already dimmed enough as it was. But with the peace they now enjoy, the friendships he now held, and the much wider perspective and the grounding hold on reality that he had, he considered any pain and suffering of his worth it.

Present was now and here, not then and there, and in this present, brought about by the fortuitous flow of the events of the past, Quatre and Heero, 04 and 01, as well as the other pilots, lived basking in what anonymity they could have. The thing was, the two just happened to live their lives together – together under one roof. They ate at the same table, used the same shower, read the same morning paper, grabbed coffee from the same maker, stayed at the same bedroom and slept in the same bed, and that was just the beginning of the list.

They would bump in the mornings, on the rare times Quatre would be running late and would be hurrying around the bedroom. Heero, with a more flexible schedule, would just stand in the middle of the room or sit on the bed, bed hair sticking out. He would be all calm and composed, sometimes tired and sleepy, even as scattered clothes and things would be shifted around when his blonde companion would be looking for something. Sometimes he'd look down, blinking sleep-filled eyes, and notice whatever thing Quatre would be looking for beside his foot, and he'd bend over to pick it up, and raise it in front of him, and not a second too soon, it would be gone from his grasp, taken by the blonde followed by a hurried thank you kiss on his cheek. He'd be startled for a moment, before he'd shake his head with a soft, if not sleepy, smile, a mere hint of lifting in the corners of his lips.

They would bump in the evenings, on the rare times Heero would be rushing work and cramming to catch a deadline, although any rushing on his part would be unnoticeable to those who didn't know him. He'd be stuck in what had been dubbed as the E-room, where all electronic devices like computers and players were placed. Quatre would just sit behind the computer table on a sofa, drinking tea, sometimes coffee, watching the television or reading the day's paper. Heero would stand from his seat searching for a missing page of his manuscript, or a missing printout of his source code, depending on the job he was doing at the moment. He'd nearly collide with Quatre, who would then be offering him a plate of biscuits for his snack. He'd apologize, before opening his mouth to ask, but then, Quatre would speak even before he could say a word. "It's on the desk in the study. You left it there, silly," and Heero would blink, then offer a soft, barely noticeable smile of gratitude, before reaching out and ruffling the blonde hair as he'd pass. He would finish his work in a more stress-free way, which you'd only notice if you knew him personally. Soon the computer would be turned off just as television would be as well and the day's paper would be folded neatly on a table. Heero would look up, and see Quatre already waiting for him to finally retire for the night.

Their friends – the close circle of war veterans, you might call it – would invite them to gatherings together. When they looked for Quatre, they would not call his secretary, but would instead call the rather snobbish ex-pilot 01. When they looked for the rather snobbish ex-pilot 01, they would disturb the highly busy schedule of the CEO of Winner Enterprises Inc., or WEI, to inquire of the whereabouts of the said snobbish ex-pilot. They would often be seen together, during official visits, social gatherings, or even in just a normal breakfast, lunch, or dinner out.

Quatre sometimes graced the cover of leading business magazines, sometimes even fashion magazines as he was, in all respects, good looking and well bred, not to mention relatively young – a prime example for bachelors to follow and a profit-bringing model for the publication. Over the years, however, the term bachelor soon faded away from descriptions of him, a gradual decline just as pictures of Heero Yuy steadily started appearing on the same pages, and soon after, on solo pages as well, mostly all candid shots. It was years of gradual change, but it happened, and if Quatre got the most exposure of the five, Heero, much as he disliked it, got the second most.

They were often seen together, and the steady buzz on the media speculating on who exactly Heero Yuy was, was insignificant as it was dampened as years crawled by and the issues of 'Quatre Winner is gay?' would not be discussed here, because the more important aspect of it all was – they were, undoubtedly, no questions asked, happy and content, very much so. You'd probably wonder, 'How did it happen?' How was it possible for two people, who met in war just linked as they were with the same distinction as Gundam pilots and just brought together by the same purpose, how was it possible for them to achieve a level of happiness that others spend a lifetime searching for? When, in the long journey of history, did Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner start to be considered as one?

One would wonder, if Quatre was a prince or king, would Heero be the prince consort? Or would he be given a rather useless title, say, Lord of L4 Colony Resource Satellite MO XIV point HQ 0x?

Once again, to pursue that line of thought would be a digression.

If one was to gear away from the gravity and seriousness of it all, one might think, "Their numbers one and four doesn't even have much in common."

True, one was odd, the other even; one prime, the other was not. One and four weren't even consecutive numbers; they had two numbers in between.

Either approach was trivial, however, whether one was consider the important or insignificant side of it, the question of how or when, or even why or what still remained.

Again, if you were ask him how or when it happened, Quatre would merely shrug, not knowing what to answer, and he'd probably just chuckle in that way of his that seemed to hold so much meaning you'd wonder if the strategist was at work. He'd just wave his hand in dismissal before commenting on what a great day it was, or how the weather was perfect, or how the coffee was just right and before you knew it, you forgot that you even asked, swayed as you were by his gentle words and easy conversation – otherwise called _tactical manipulation. _

Well, of course.

You would have to be ignorant and naïve enough to actually expect an answer. After all, people just didn't go around telling other people who just suddenly asked of their lives and their innermost secrets. Most of all not Quatre Winner!

But given the premise, a premise that would remain nothing but, that he _would _actually answer…

If you'd try to ask him again how or when it happened, if you'd show him your genuine desire to sate your thirst for wisdom and knowledge, or otherwise just tell him that your curiosity was already starting to eat you up inside and kill you slowly – because he'd probably be worried about it – you'd finally be rewarded with the unusual sight of his biting of his lower lip unconsciously as he'd frown in thought, and after a moment, he would say the words, "I don't know exactly," spoken in a thoughtful manner, probably followed by, "I told you. It just happened."

It would not be much of an improvement from the careless shrug and the waved dismissal but he'd be thinking about it; it would be a start.

Patience was a heavenly virtue or so they said.

If you were to wait for a while, keeping in mind that patience was indeed a heavenly virtue, the silence would grow into anticipation and before that heavenly virtue ran out, he would speak in a manner that would let you know he was speaking straight from his mind, from thoughts to words, and memories to tale.

"I think it has always been there – our connection, I mean."

Quatre would be swirling the contents of his cup of beverage, and you'd see his silent fascination with it grow as he watched the swirling liquid, as if remembering some distant memory, which probably would be the case. If someone was indeed asking him how one of the most important things in his life happened, he would be sure to lose himself in one memory after another.

"I never did think that my connection to him was special. I thought it just normal."

Of course, the connection he'd be talking about was his empathic ability. It was an ability only a few knew about, and even what they knew was just limited to a certain extent. To others, he would just shrug it off as instinct or gut feel. But if he were to explain it to you (again, given the premise that he actually _would _) he'd do it by saying, "I'm an empath, a person able to feel other's emotions," and with this, you'd already guess that what explanation he was about to give was also limited. "I'm not exactly a trained one," and he would shrug again, as though you should know what that meant. If you were smart, you'd know he was being vague. "I get snippets of emotions that I often times mistake for my own, but I learned how to block it out. If I focus, I probably could tell you exactly what you are feeling right now, but I won't and I would not wish to invade another's privacy consciously that way if it isn't needed." He'd take a sip from the cup in his hands, then he'd turn to the window. "I consider it a _gift _of empathy, as opposed to a _talent _I could use to manipulate to my will. It's just there," and by this time in his explanation, he would have a hand on his chest, and his head would be bowed, probably reaching the emotions inside him. "A gift that allows me to feel, allows me to empathize with others. It is something that allows me to… simply reach out."

And reach out he did. Quatre was the type of person who had the uncanny ability to get along with almost everyone. Like water, he just flowed smoothly in and out of situations, molding himself to what was expected for the time and getting along with people, and all this would be done with such sincerity you'd be left baffled as to where he actually got his share of sincerity because surely, he must had run out of it by now.

He reached out as well to Heero Yuy, the once thought to be the unreachable perfect soldier, and you'd think, what does reaching out to Heero Yuy mean?

There would be times when Heero would feel particularly unsociable – read: total seclusion. Quatre would just smile, stay silent and wait him out until the brunette snapped out of his brooding mood. Heero would then just sit beside the Arab, as a silent apology for ignoring him, and wait for the fall of that blonde head on his shoulder as a silent forgiveness and assurance that it was okay, and "Feeling better now?" Heero would sometimes just drape an arm around the other's shoulders and not say anything. One would think, how did Quatre reach out to him?

There would also be times when Heero would find himself angry or totally annoyed because of one reason or another, and Quatre would just lay a hand on his shoulder or softly utter his name, gentle and not reprimanding. Heero would visibly calm down then, still mad perhaps, but calm enough to start trying to cool his anger. Once again, how did Quatre reach out?

There was really no way to get answers from mere speculations. What you knew so far was that Quatre was an empath. He felt the emotions of others. He used it to reach out. It was just another aspect of Quatre, another facet of a jewel, another fact to add to those that were already stated.

Then again, an empath… and a _pilot? _

You'd wonder how could he have possibly handled and protected himself from his empathy during the war. You could ask him that and he'd smile sadly, saying, "On the battlefield, I was a pilot first, empathy comes in second. I was a strategist – a soldier and terrorist given with a mission and weighed down with the responsibility. Although," and he would look at you in a way that would make you freeze in your seat by its solemnity. "I am always human. I cannot just put aside my humanity to put the pilot first. All of us, we are not some heartless spawn of evil," he would say, and he'd wave the seriousness that hung in the air with a careless hand, as if that would explain it all, and he'd put a smile on his face to lighten up the mood.

"I do not deny my emotions," he would say soon after. "If I did, I would not have survived it, the war, I mean. With my empathic abilities, each of my sorrows is increased tenfold; each pain and grief is magnified. Every regret pounds heavily in my chest and guilt continuously gnaws me from the inside," he'd pause and take a sip from his drink. "I need to let them out, or I wouldn't have lasted. My emotions… they keep me grounded. I cry when I need to, laugh when I feel like it. It might not be the same with the other guys, but it's just the way I handle things."

By this time you'd probably be too overwhelmed to actually pursue your true subject of interest with the name of Heero Yuy. Who wouldn't be? With what he had revealed, your previous concept of war and of being in the front lines would have slipped from your grasp totally.

History lessons were mere text, a recount of what happened. History didn't dwell much on feelings and emotions of each and every individual that made it. They spoke of the heart of the people, the voice of the citizens, not the individual hearts of those fighting, not the turmoil and inner battles they went through it all. No, history didn't cover that.

You would probably wish now to go back to Heero Yuy, and the question of how or when, and away from the complexities of warfare and battles, because it would be more simple. It would be something you were ready for and would be far less complex than determining the sentiments of war, and because you'd rather not go into the paradoxical discussion of right and wrong, and black and white, because then you'd only ask, what happened to _gray _?

And for the third time, it would be a digression to follow that line of questioning.

So once again going back to the empathic ex-pilot-now-CEO, and given the situation that you were conversing in a café, probably, on a nice afternoon and you had just asked about the how or the when of Heero Yuy in his life, you'd nod to his explanation of the empathy that you had no wish to dwell upon more that what would be necessary in the premise-ruled conversation.

He'd pause, before absently saying, "Kindness is not necessary when fighting, but it is necessary during other times." You'd wonder then, if those words came from him, since he would look as if he had quoted someone else, and you wouldn't know what to answer to that. How would people answer statements when they do not fully understand the weight of such words coming from the lips of one with wisdom and experience beyond his age? So you'd be silent, and he would be too.

He'd be losing himself in his memories again, walking a path he had once walked, seeing the things he had once seen, hearing the sounds, the voices of the people he had known and since, _no, _you wouldn't want to go on thinking of hearing the cries of the ones in pain, or seeing the blood and tears shed, you would kill your train of thoughts immediately, leave the man to his memories, and just stick to your own morbid curiosity. But you'd want to prompt him back to the topic of Heero, prompt him back to the café, because you wouldn't want him to go that far back and you'd want him to just settle for his memories on the surface.

Some memories were pushed back farther than others for a reason.

If you did, Quatre would blink then, and his eyes would be clearer and you'd know he'd be in the here and now, not the then and there. He would laugh and apologize, saying, "Of course, I'm sorry." He would shake his head and continue where he left off before explaining his unique abilities that seemed to make him just a tad more… _human _.

"I think I've always felt Heero here," he would say, as he'd lay his palm flat on his chest, just above his heart. If he were feeling particularly specific, he'd then proceed by narrating how he felt death without exactly experiencing it himself – as there was a time during the war when they, the five pilots, found themselves in a corner after battling their way through webs of treachery and deceit, and Heero, finding no other option and accepting the final mission at the time, self-destructed. Quatre, who was probably half a world away, felt it.

He would raise a hand to his chest saying, "An agonizing pain that I can't explain," and indeed it was. It had overwhelmed him, his heart and chest tightening to the extent that breathing was impossible and the beating of his heart was but a faint throb. "I was jerked forward within the confines of my own suit. I can't move. I can't breathe and for a few moments, I thought for sure there was no way I would survive such an attack."

He'd then explain that it was only after the heat of the battle, when he was with Pilot 02, Duo Maxwell, that he had realized the depth of a connection he didn't even know existed to a person he hadn't even met. "I didn't give it much thought then. It was just there, the knowledge a mere inkling in my mind and the connection a faint feeling in my heart."

You'd probably smile then, because the conversation was going to the direction that would hopefully have the answers to the how or why at the end, and that thoughts of the shadow of war had at least passed.

You could comment on how his emotions and the way he was sensitive to them had probably played a large role in bringing them, Heero and Quatre, together since Heero seemed as cold as ice, emotional as a rock was. But if you did, he would just look at you in a funny way, his expression so profound they were practically screaming, _"Where the hell did you get _that _idea?" _and would laugh a joyous and heartfelt laughter that you couldn't help but join, so you probably would.

"Ice? Heero's not cold as ice," and he'd smile fondly. "In fact, he's no where near ice at all. He's fire, an unquenchable flame," and again, you'd wonder at that just as the many times you were left wondering at the things that surrounded him.

Flame as opposed to ice.

Taking it literally…

There would be times when both Heero and Quatre would be in Earth for their Christmas, nay, not Christmas, rather Eve get-together and it would be winter. It would only be a small gathering of the _close circle of war veterans. _The snow would usually fall incessantly for the entire night of those get-togethers. The women would usually arrange the meal after chasing the five former Gundam pilots to the living room, where Duo would be poking the fire in the fireplace, adding firewood to the already large pile. It would be cold, and Quatre would always be huddled in a couch in a knitted sweater. Pilot 03, Trowa Barton, would usually sit on the floor quietly under where he was, a discarded flute on his lap, while Pilot 05, Chang Wufei, would be constantly reminding Duo that the firewood was enough and to please 'stop trying to burn the cabin, Maxwell'.

It would be this scene that would greet Heero after his trip to the shower, and he would be greeted in turn by "Only you, Heero. Only _you _would think of taking a shower at this temperature," to which he'd merely raise a brow before taking in the sight of Quatre in the couch's corner trying to feed off the warmth the furniture offered. He would notice Trowa move then, just enough to let him sit beside the blonde, and he would offer a glance of gratitude, before giving Trowa's head a soft, imperceptible touch, a slight ruffling of hair as he sat. Quatre would lean to him, just slightly as he'd be mindful of the others in the room, and he would say, "Heero, you're cold." But he'd stay there anyway.

Years would have already passed before these get-togethers even became a somewhat constant yearly event. Years wherein each of the pilots would have already learned to adjust and live as normal citizens and Heero, by then, would be more open and would not mind the way Quatre slightly leaned into him, because war would be a thing of the past and the trust and friendship among the five of them would already have been strengthened and sealed by the passing of such years. So Heero wouldn't mind, and there, in front of their companions, he would take out the blanket he brought and drape it over them both, pulling Quatre closer to his embrace before tucking the warm blanket around them comfortably. He'd even leave a trail hanging for Trowa to use if he'd wish, and the former Heavyarms pilot usually would. Comments and teasing were inevitable, but were inconsequential, because they would die away not soon after, and it would be silent, each of them quietly lost in their thoughts and taking pleasure in the simple things in life as being there, together. This silence would be Trowa's cue then and he'd lift the flute to his mouth and play.

But that wasn't really related to flame and ice, and it was a mere try at the literal explanation that ice was cold and fire was warm and again, mere speculations wouldn't bring adequate answers. So if you asked Quatre about it, he'd smile before answering, "You need only to look into his eyes and you'd understand," and for a moment, you would not even notice what was said, the words going through you as though you were deaf and had no way to hear them. You would not notice because you'd be staring at him, marveled, for the first time hearing in his tone and seeing in his eyes the silent yet strong devotion he had towards the ex-Pilot 01, and it would somehow leave no doubts in your mind that such feeling was reciprocated just as much. You would finally understand, with the way he would speak his words, the way he would smile when speaking and remembering, the way his eyes would shine. You would finally recognize the fact that the depth of his feelings, or their feelings for that matter, would not be something to be determined.

You'd come to the conclusion that it was there – the strong bond that tied them together. It was so thick that you knew one would have to be blind not to see it. Whether in simple things such as the soft way Heero would utter Quatre's name, or the way Quatre would silently look at Heero with a tender smile on his face, or the large things, which actually seemed not to matter for what were the large things anyway? Were the simple things, like Heero giving Quatre's hand a gentle squeeze or Quatre having a hand on Heero's shoulder as an unconscious show of support really simple at all? Or were they just as large and as important as those things that seemed less trivial?

And now the intricacies of it would probably leave you baffled once more, but it was better, much easier to take and to understand, than asking what happened to _gray _.

By this time, your curiosity would be piqued, so much so that you would be more than willing to prod him for more, but his answers would be limited, because even though the conversation was working on certain premises, Quatre couldn't exactly answer what he still often wondered about himself – the how's or the why's, or the when's or the what's.

If you were to ask, say, Duo about their relationship, and you caught the braided man on a serious note, he'd probably smile, genuine and true, not the usual smirk or grin and would answer simply, "I'm happy for them. They deserve what happiness they could get after what all of us have been through," because he was Duo, and no matter how much jokes, and laughs, and smiles he showed the Earth Sphere, he never took any of his friends' well-being lightly.

If you'd have the opportunity to observe, you'd see that, indeed, they were happy. Quatre's soft smile for Heero would be enough of an indication, and if caught, Heero's gentle look at Quatre would be _more _than enough.

Sometimes even, when Heero would be present, you would probably see Quatre unconsciously stop – yes, just stop in whatever he was doing – and he would just seem to look at him for a few moments, whether Heero would be eating or driving or just picking him up from work. His gentle and affectionate look would be so open that it would seem to one who might be watching that one had intruded on something private and couldn't help but just look away. If you were that one, you couldn't help but wonder if he was thinking exactly what you, yourself, had been wondering about.

_How did it happen? How did they find themselves in each other? _

You'd think of the conversation so far, and would then stop, thinking aloud, "He picks you up from work?" and the blonde CEO would laugh.

"Not always, but yes, he actually does at times," and he'd explain that no matter how often those times were, he still couldn't quite get used to it, nor could he prevent himself from being surprised. "He couldn't blame me though. _He _would stand outside my car for a few moments when _I _pick him up from wherever, looking as though he couldn't believe I was actually there to act as his chauffer." This was, of course, despite the fact that both had their own cars to use – and a couple more under the Winner household – and Heero also had a bike.

"Blame it on Heero, his randomness at dropping by the office, if he wasn't already there, was unpredictable as the weather on Earth," If you'd ask Quatre more about it, you'd see his face light up and his smile would soften in remembrance.

"The very first time he appeared by my office door, I knew there was no going back. It was all or nothing, black or white. There was no gray area."

With that statement, the shadow that previously hung over the word gray as it reminded you of the darkness of war would be lifted.

He would smile then, and would take a sip from his beverage. "Hard day at work then. I was frustrated and tired, and just plain exhausted," he'd say and he'd then turn his eyes far away, but you'd see that he wouldn't be looking at anything at all except for the memories replaying in his mind, and you would think: _These were the memories that were on the surface. These were the memories that he held close, shielding those that he had probably pushed far back in his mind. _

"We were preparing for a big department merge that time, and I was feeling the stress of a week's worth of work. I wasn't looking when he came in. I thought it was my secretary but when I looked up, he was there." He would smile. His expression would be tender, and he'd be looking at his hands as if they were the most fascinating things in the solar system.

"He was looking at me with a brow raised as if saying, 'Well? What are you still waiting for?'" Quatre would laugh then, and you probably would too, especially if you knew Heero personally. The Wing Zero pilot had this uncanny ability of making his expressions actually talk with words; it was sometimes unnerving.

"In faded jeans, black shirt and denim jacket, he didn't quite fit in the corporate environment of the WEI building. But leaning on the side of my open door, smile not quite evident but there, arms crossed and waiting for me, I couldn't imagine a better place he'd best fit in." After being silent for a while, he would notice that he said more than what he intended and he'd look sheepish and apologize.

But of course, you probably wouldn't mind, would you? You were getting your curiosity stroked, like a cat quite near to purring to contentment; quite, but not yet. You'd say as much and he'd relax again, but you couldn't yet get over the image of the one once called _Perfect Soldier _doing such mundane things.

But then, people who knew them wouldn't really expect them to be blowing things up constantly, would they? Once soldiers or not, they still had their lives to live, and without a war, it was a whole new different journey all together.

"The first time we actually met," Quatre would continue then, even without prompting, and you'd scramble back to your conversation finding the last thread of topic you left, which would be Heero and the war, and upon finding it, you would connect it to the present one. "We were standing on opposite grounds."

Knowing his background, you should know that what he meant would be closer to: "The first time we actually met, we were trying to kill each other." If you were to look closer, you'd see a shadow in his eyes, as if the memory haunted him still, like a phantom constantly haunting his thoughts and recollections. If you were a friend, you'd know it still did, and if you were part of their _close circle of war veterans _, you'd know what happened and you'd know it was best to remain silent, or you could probably reach out and touch his hand in silent comfort. He'd smile at that and you'd see him try to keep hold of that smile.

Once again, not for the first time, the thoughts of war would weigh heavily in the air, as though it would materialize if the conversation went any deeper, and you probably wouldn't want it to. After all, you wanted to ask about Heero Yuy, Quatre Winner's partner. But then, if it hadn't occurred to you yet, you would soon realize that Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner were inextricably linked to war and battles and fights as both had souls that experienced firsthand what it was to be in the forefront of battle. Both had pasts that were just too tied, too _braided _with it that to attempt to separate them from it would be like separating them from themselves and giving them a whole new identity.

"It had been my lowest point, I think, that time after we met," he'd say and it would bring you out of your thoughts. At this he'd smile and continue, "It's funny, you know. Emotions are not my weakness, as I said. If anything, they are probably the strength that kept me sane and reminded me of what I was fighting for and why, a driving force that led my hand even as it was forced to pull a trigger and forced to end lives. It guided my actions, but they had wavered that time, and Heero was there. He acted as my crutch without exactly doing anything. He was my anchor when my emotions faltered to a point that I don't think I could feel anything anymore. I was numb here," and he'd lay a hand to his chest again. "Or sometimes, I was too overcome by grief or guilt that I forgot why I was even fighting."

He would then trail off, and after a moment, he would laugh to prevent himself from being carried away with the emotion, not wanting to be so open about a subject so private. You'd smile then, understanding and respecting his need for privacy.

In any case, you would understand the fact that you couldn't really get all the answers from just asking, so you'd be silent for a while, mulling over the fact that CEO or not, even if he was the wealthiest man alive, Quatre had his own demons, and own inner battles to face. He wasn't spared from emotions such as grief, pain and loss, even guilt and regret. People had placed him on such a high pedestal that to most, such thoughts never really did occur to them. Master Winner, Winner Heir, Wealthiest Man Alive, Most Eligible Bachelor (once upon a time), Philanthropist, CEO, Modern Day Prince, Ladies' Fantasy, Dream Man… and the list would go on infinitely. Again, the Earth Sphere didn't know, hadn't even got the tiniest idea of who their Quatre Raberba Winner really was.

The public would never, in their ignorant existence, comprehend how life was for Quatre, or for any of the five Gundam pilots for that matter. They didn't know him as a Gundam pilot, and even if they did, what difference would it make? Knowing wouldn't really bring them any closer to comprehending who he really was. Being a Gundam pilot was more than the heroics and the glory, more than the skills and the courage. It was more than the hate and love attitude that divided the human race. Each of them, each of the five pilots, was different, and no one would exactly know and understand how it was for them to live, or to simply exist after all that happened.

Once again, it seemed, that the word _gray _was again taking its previous meaning, and you would think, how had each of them survived the war, a fight between opposing forces like the black and white of the yin and yang? But was life even viewed as merely black and white (2)? Yet, the Eve wars weren't as clear as to who was on the black and who was on white; the shifts of power during AC 195 happened more times than you could count that you had lost track of it somewhere in between… and now you'd probably want to continue on to the topic before your thoughts could continue because soon it would ask, 'Who was on the _gray _?' and you would have no answer.

After a while he would continue, now in a lighter and joking tone, which you would readily and thankfully accept. "I wish I could just give you a 'we kissed and the rest is history' kind of answer. But I can't. What we have was a product of years of single moments that just made it possible, moments as simple as meeting each other's gazes before the closing of the hatches of our mobile suits."

If he were to go on, he'd mention simple moments such as Heero leaving his own cup of tea silently for him to get another one for himself when he entered the conference room in the Peacemillion, tired and battle-weary after confronting the Mobile Dolls; or the time in Sanq when all Heero wanted to do was to leave and Quatre looked at him, silently pleading for him to understand, and held his wrist lightly, and their eyes met for a moment, and it was all it took for the other pilot to nod his head once in agreement; or the moment in the eve of AC 195's war end when Quatre awoke in a medical ward, oxygen mask in his face, and he saw in his hazy state Heero's outline in the dark, quietly standing beside Trowa's sleeping form. He wanted to speak then, to lift the burden of sleep in his eyes and the weakness in his body due to the deep puncture wound he received in his side, but he was hushed and was gently ordered to sleep again and his body obeyed, and like the soft and invisible touch on his forehead, the moment was gone.

You'd conclude then that he was indeed going down the memory lane all the while, remembering those cherished moments, speaking from his mind, thoughts to words, memories to tales, but sadly, no one really had access to those moments, thoughts and memories but him alone, and Heero certainly had his own share. The question of, 'Would you rather ask Heero?' would be insignificant and unhelpful, since most people would already answer a resounding 'No!' even before the question would even finish.

Quatre would take a sip from his drink then, before continuing thoughtfully. "We were in war. I was not thinking of such things – I had not the liberty to do so. I admired him, yes, just as I admired the rest. Who wouldn't? Each of us admired him in our way. Maybe I hadn't given it much thought," that shrug again. "I don't know really. I did recognize, though, the fact that what we had was different, something special. Maybe that should have been my warning."

You would think of the bond, and the connection, and you would classify that as something special. But you knew there was more, surely, and he wouldn't disappoint by continuing to talk.

He would smile before saying, "All five of us are connected in a way I could never explain. But with Heero, I share a companionship, a friendship without words, and an understanding that runs deeper than what we thought possible for two soldiers in war. We had this understanding. We had this way of knowing what the other needs. Even if we've only spent time for a short while in Sanq, it was enough of a foundation."

Given a chance to watch them, from observation alone, you could say that the friendship of the five was entirely special in and of itself. They had a bond, as though there was an invisible line that connected one to the others and among the five of them, they created a web of their own special friendship and trust – a flexible web at that, one moment they were friends, the next, a team, and yet again the low profile Elite Preventer Unit or they could even turn into a terrorist group, and you'd stop there, thinking that an innocent description such as a group of Lady Killers would turn into something you would really rather not think about.

You'd just wonder then how friendship with Heero, during his _Perfect Soldier _time, was even possible. You would probably laugh at the thought. If you knew him personally, you'd know how aloof he kept himself during the war – how distant he held himself from others, and even now he had this air of detachment that held others at a certain distance, except for those he trusted. You wouldn't wonder further, because Quatre would offer you with an explanation.

"The time we spent time together during the war had been, as I said, somewhat my lowest point. Heero… he somehow knew when to stay when I needed company, or when to leave when I needed to be alone. He knew when to speak or when to just listen or stay quiet. And when he does speak, he does it in so few words but they were the words I _needed _to hear," he would explain, and he would smile softly. "I, on the other hand, had learned early on that Heero's words, the way he said it, and their meaning doesn't exactly match. I learned to hear both what he was saying and what he was leaving unsaid," he would then frown momentarily and say, "It's really not something I could try to explain."

The try at the explanation, though, would be enough for you to consider changing your impression of Heero during his time in the war. You'd think that maybe, the fifteen-year old soldier Heero Yuy, was just often misjudged by his aloof nature and death glares that his true, kind nature was always overlooked. But then again, you'd wonder if Quatre just knew how to read, understand and empathize with people, or maybe it was both.

You'd pause then, probably realizing how you had judged someone you really had no right to judge in the first place and you would then wonder, how often was Heero misjudged so? How often had people kept away, stayed out of his path upon seeing the glare and the glower on his face? How many of those who had crossed his path even had passing thoughts that probably, he didn't want others to be close? That he was acting the way he was because he simply _knew no other way to act _? On the other hand, you really couldn't blame them. Impressions _did _matter, a sad reality that men had an innate tendency towards the superficial first; what was inside came a mere second.

"There was always this gentle air around us, something different in the way we interact with each other, that the others really wasn't as surprised to learn of it as I thought they would be," Quatre would continue after being lost in his thoughts for a while.

You'd wonder about that and you'd, of course, ask about it.

"Ask them," Quatre would say, waving a hand carelessly as if ' _them' _were sitting in front of him. "When the guys learned of our relationship, which started only years after the war, they were more surprised with the fact that they actually get to see it happen. They weren't that surprised by the idea itself because they said they had felt the probability of it happening, but they didn't really give a serious thought that it would. _" _At that, he would chuckle in remembrance.

You would too, imagining exactly how each of the others had taken it.

All of them were surprised, especially since Heero hadn't exactly been the most enthusiastic at keeping in touch, but they understood and didn't bother with the questions such as how, or why, or when.

If you were to ask Trowa about it, he would probably say, "Quatre and Heero is dancing on a level that is theirs alone," but since he was Trowa and Trowa didn't exactly work on probabilities, it would be most likely that he wouldn't really answer.

If you were to ask Wufei, you would ask yourself why you had to ask him at all after hearing the word _justice _for more times than you'd probably care about, but because he was Wufei, he'd be probably just opting not to give you the answer you wanted.

Duo had even said something suspiciously like "Aha!" upon learning of it and pestered Wufei for a time before the Chinese pilot relented finally, as if he remembered some distant memory, saying, "All right! Damn it. I should have known better," and Trowa, after a moment of staring with his eyes a hundredth of a unit wider, just smiled and reached out to gently push Quatre's bangs out of his face.

"It's probably one of the things that they would go 'Hey, there's something here,' then move on to more important things like MS repairs," Quatre would say, laughing. "Well looking back now, considering our silent companionship on the Peacemillion, I guess they would have noticed it anyway." Before he'd continue on explaining, he'd frown slightly. "That time, we were all pushed to work together, after being used in doing everything alone," he'd say. "After months of fighting individually, facing each of our own losses and brief victories, suddenly, we were a team. Each of us fell into our own distinct roles and while we really had no leader, we all looked up and respected Heero enough that we had unconsciously raised him in that position. Admittedly or not, each one of us looked up to him as someone to follow in our own way. It was almost an unconscious effort." He'd smile softly then, as if in remembrance.

"They trusted me, however, on the strategies and planning. It came naturally for me. I didn't even know I was doing it. I was often just voicing out an opinion, an option I thought would be best. It was not until Heero started to address me in front of the other pilots to ask me of what I thought or what plan would be best with them intently listening, did I realize that it had become my role. I knew what would work and what would not. I even worked closely with each of the pilots to know their strengths and weaknesses and that of their Gundams and whenever we were in our conference room, discussing the things that were needed to be done, repairs that were needed to be put on hold for much more important ones," he would laugh lightly then before continuing. "Heero and I seemed to have our minds linked that we sometimes left the others with the pace of our discussion and the sparse words that were exchanged.

I knew when he disagreed or was doubtful of a certain part of the decisions by just looking at him, and he immediately knew what I was planning even before I laid the plans out just by observing the way I carried myself or the way I spoke and pointed things out. It was really as though our minds were connected," he'd pause, take a drink and look outside again. "I don't know if the Zero system had placed us on a level wherein our minds immediately saw what numerous possibilities and options we had in battle better than the others…" he'd say thoughtfully before trailing off. He'd look up and shake his head in apology and wouldn't continue anymore.

You'd again wonder at that, and looking at him, you'd gather that it would be the last that would be said of the matter, so you would have no choice but to accept it at that and leave the little tidbit of information to the list of things to wonder about Quatre Winner. But if you knew what he was talking about, you'd know and understand what Zero was and how important its role had become.

The Zero system was a dangerous tool and Heero and Quatre were the only ones who had been fully exposed to it. The system had probably augmented each of their skills in strategy and planning, as it was a system designed to feed battle information straight to the pilot's brain.

With Heero using it during the time and with Quatre being the natural born tactician that he was, it wouldn't be a surprise to know that both had worked well and in sync with each other when it came to discussing their plans, or then again, perhaps they just knew how to understand and read each other well.

Quatre would then look down, a fond smile on his lips. "We were a team. If we started out as one from the beginning, we would be near impossible to beat, a much greater force for Oz to reckon with," he would pause then and shake his head before saying, "No, maybe we would be, but it would be different. I guess the trials we faced and the flight we individually made before becoming one and united as we were then were what made us the team that we were…" He'd smile and shrug. "Still are, in fact."

You'd then understand the secret behind the success of the Gundams. Skills and talents were merely secondary compared to the hearts and minds that were united under one cause. They went on a journey alone and ended up with four more others, and thus the web of their friendship seemed much clearer.

Quatre would then turn and look wistfully out the window. "We weren't as close-knit after the war as we are now. We were a team, a rebel unit, at the closing of the wars. We didn't know exactly how to work at a time of peace. We were friends, perhaps, in our own sense but it took around three years before the communication among all us five, and not merely two or three, even became somewhat constant." He would smile and say, "I guess peace presented a new obstacle for us, a new challenge to face." He'd laugh. "We had to find ourselves first, find our places in the society before facing each other again. I guess that too was important in bringing us to what we are now, as though we are brothers in all but blood."

You'd probably be surprised at that revelation, thinking that with how the five of them work now, you couldn't imagine a time when they weren't… _that. _But the necessity of such separation, done unconsciously or not, was probably there.

They all had their own demons to face, own guilt and regrets to carry, painful memories to keep and hurt, grief and anger to let go. They had to find themselves first, find their places in a world without war, and find peace within themselves, unconsciously knowing and hoping that somewhere, there were four others to go back to who would understand what each of them was going through. Indeed, they probably needed time first before they could face the familiar faces that would be their constant link to that part of their lives, a constant reminder of what they had fought for and what they had achieved, and their hope that something good had come about, whether be it their friendship or peace.

Quatre would shake his head again and laugh, before saying, "I'm boring you, aren't I?" Before you could disagree, he would continue on speaking. "I'm sorry. We're not even on Heero anymore. You'd think years of being together would be enough for me to know the answer to your question."

_Years _. It was years of gradual change, and such change was not only reflected in the steady dropping of the term bachelor from Quatre Winner's profile – for how could two former soldiers manage to break away from their war-lived lives? How could ex-terrorists, trained pilots who fought in a war manage to move on, live their lives as normal citizens and much more, find such happiness in each other?

Of course, you would shake your head in reply to him and probably say something like, "No, it's okay," and proceed with statements such as, "It's just a mystery how you two got together given your history, and are now spending years being happy," or something equally over-sentimental.

He would look thoughtful for a moment, as if lost in a sea of memories. His voice would be a whisper, spoken almost unconsciously. You could see that he would be, indeed, lost in his thoughts. "I have thought about it, about us. But every time brings me no closer to understanding how exactly it happened, or why," he would trail off, probably remembering some distant memory, and you would think of the millions of memories that he could be possibly thinking.

Would he be thinking of Heero, and the way they would sit side by side, silently by the fire in the coldness of winter on Earth? Or the time that he would find himself stuck in his study with a ton of paperwork to do, and Heero would arrive with a tray of food in hand, not bothering with words as he would arrange a clear desk to set a place for two, and would just sit quietly, reading a book or paper until Quatre would join him with a tired but grateful smile on his face? Or perhaps the very rare times that Heero would actually allow himself to laugh freely because of something Quatre did, and the blonde would be left surprised, dumbfounded, just before Heero would take pity on his utterly flabbergasted look and envelop him in an embrace, making him feel the other's subsiding laughter and he would just find himself smiling as well?

Or would he be thinking of the war, and their desperate run for fighting and survival? Or their courageous stand against everyone and everything that had left them in a fight that was supposed to be fought together, leaving them to themselves, alone and utterly betrayed? Or would he think of the pain, of the guilt, of the regrets and grief that he said was pounding in his heart magnified tenfold?

You'd see him shake his head then, and you'd be thankful for that because it pulled you out of your wayward thoughts. You'd look at him, and feel something different. His eyes would tell you he wasn't wandering in memories anymore. They would not look as distant as it had been when he grasped for words to explain and to answer how and why. They would be sharper, clearer, and with a sudden thought, you would realize, _he is in the here and now, not the then and there. _

"It really doesn't matter," he'd say, and you would think for a moment that he had traveled in a circle and now he would be closing it by pulling the two ends together, but something would tell you that he did not, and it was actually just a straight path.

His voice would sound different, his words, although the same, would seem as though they _were _actually the answer to the how and the when, and probably all the other questions that came with it.

There would be a lengthy and weighty pause, before he would look up and say, "It doesn't really matter how or when it happened. Such triviality pales in comparison to what all five of us have been through, and how each of us has found our places in a world of peace." He would smile at you, and again, not for the first time, you would wonder what memories and moments had been running through his head because you somehow would feel left out, as though he had realized something between the moment you asked and the moment now.

"Heero and I… we were soldiers, nameless pawns in the dangerous chessboard of war. We're just two individuals, who lived at a time of war and who survived to see peace and was brought together by uncertain circumstances." He'd then shift his gaze downwards, once again studying the spiral of what remained in his cup as he swirled it with his hand. "We share a past, both he and I. How we came to share the present, again, I can't exactly tell, but it is both our hold to our past and our link, our hope, for our future. Exactly how it happened, when it happened, I don't know, but it just did." By this time, the smile on his face would be different, and he'd look at his watch. By then, an hour would have already passed.

Although the entire conversation was working around the premise of Quatre Winner actually answering a meddlesome curious cat, it would be good to have it end on a realistic note.

Perhaps you had been conversing in coffee shop on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, if so, he would then look out the window, searching for something, and just when you thought his smile couldn't turn any brighter, it would. The light in his eyes, dimmed for more times than you could remember during the entire conversation would be there, present and glowing, and you would probably have an idea why, especially given all the things talked about, but you, of course, would just have to look.

Across the street, arms crossed and leaning nonchalantly on a door of a sleek black, top down sports car, would be none other than Heero Yuy. His eyes would be trained on Quatre and you'd get the feeling he had been watching for a while now, and since you would not want to think of war and the horrors of it and the Perfect Soldier standing meters from you, you'd turn back to your companion and see that he would be getting ready to go and he'd be fishing out his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. If you were the normal kind of inquiring person, you'd probably wonder out loud, "You're really happy with him, aren't you?"

If you did, he'd just smile and reply with, "He's with me. That's more than I could ever ask for," and you would smile, finally _finally _understanding, because everything was just as it should be in their journey from way back during the desperate times of war to the present and on to whatever the future held for them.

It had been a long journey and not an easy one at that, just as the premise-ruled conversation was a journey to have the answers to the question how or when or even why, even though it ended up to having a light, just a mere patch of glow to the answer of the question of _who. _

_Who was Quatre Winner? Who were the Gundam Pilots? _

It was a mere peephole of understanding to lives of mere boys forced by chance to fight, and to kill, and to be in the forefront of a battle they were too young to be in, in the first place.

In the end, you would find yourself asking, was it really a question of how or when, or why, or even of black and white? Did it matter if the answers were known or if _gray _was just as clear as the two opposing colors?

Everything was a mere spiral of events, of lives, of questions, and you knew that to find its end or its beginning would be futile.

Yet again, you'd know that all these were just speculations, mere speculations for someone who wasn't there, someone who didn't have to pull a trigger one too many times, and someone who didn't spend days on the run. They were just vague thoughts for someone who didn't experience their pain and grief, their guilt and regret – vague thoughts and mere speculations for someone who wasn't _them. _

But Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner were happy. Despite all that, they were happy. Although the shadow in their eyes would be a constant presence, it was the wisdom and peace they had somehow managed to achieve behind it that gave their eyes light. You'd realize then, they had moved on, and those years of gradual change had been their transition from being a trained assassin to a normal citizen, from being a Gundam pilot to a CEO, from being a soldier to a friend, lover and family. They had found their places in a world without war and with their friends and, consequently, had found themselves with each other. How they did it, what happened during the _then _and the _now, _was for them to know.

You'd see then that no matter how one could declare that they knew how hard a journey that must be, or how one could say that one understood how painful it was for them to live with their guilt and regrets weighing heavily on their shoulders, or how one could claim how they knew moving on could be accomplished because the peace that all that journey resulted in made it all worthwhile, one could only pretend.

Their journey was theirs and theirs alone. It was a path that only they would know. The question of how Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner got together, or the question of how the five pilots lived their lives and how they still continued on despite everything would remain as a tale for them to tell, but such tale would simply be an echo to the true reality, a mere shadow to the true magnitude of what they had been through, and the world could only wonder, just as they continued to wonder who exactly the five Gundam pilots were.

_-o-o-o- _

Quatre Raberba Winner had everything one could ever ask for and more, friends, career, just about everything. Whispers of him being a Gundam pilot were but speculations left about by a war long fought, a fight long done.

People would sometimes see him leaving WEI building on some days with a brunette, who they had come to know as Heero Yuy. The two would walk silently, and where one would wear a gentle smile, the other would have an impassive and expressionless face. But neither of them would be out of place, neither would look awkward with each other. In fact, both would look as though they were wholly in their element, even when Heero Yuy would be in his most casual clothes despite the strict corporate atmosphere of the building. Walking together, everything around them would be natural. It would seem as if everything was just as it should be… and people would wonder and think, _maybe it was _.

If people were ask him how he and Heero Yuy got together, Quatre would merely shrug and he'd probably just chuckle in that way of his that seemed to hold so much meaning. He'd just wave his hand in casual dismissal before commenting on how delicious the tarts were, or what a fine day it was, or even how he'd rather have a fruit shake instead of coffee at the moment, "If that's okay?" and before they knew it, they forgot that they even asked, swayed as they were by his gentle words and easy conversation – otherwise called _tactical manipulation _.

Well.

_Of course. _

But if they were to ask him again, show him that they wouldn't let the topic go that easily, Quatre would merely shrug carelessly and say, "It really doesn't matter, you know." He would smile then, a gentle, albeit knowing smile, followed by, "It just did," a constant answer to people curious enough to ask.

But one couldn't blame them for their curiosity. _How exactly did they get together? _

Curiosity killed the cat, or so the saying went, but people were in nowhere near the category of cats except perhaps under the category of mammals under the Kingdom Animalia. So no one would be dead yet for their curiosity, and they wouldn't be stopped if they decided that their curiosity needed to be stroked like a needy cat to the point of contentment and purring. So they would ask again…

_How? _

…and again…

_When? _

…and yet again…

_Why? _

And maybe, after several tries without having sated their curiosity, they would come to realize that, indeed, _it really doesn't matter _how or when or why or what or where it happened, because one look at the leaving couple, one blonde with a small stack of folders in hand, the other brunette with the briefcase he would have snatched away from his companion dangling over his shoulder, they would think that it really didn't matter, because somehow, some way, and somewhere along the way, _it just did. _

* * *

**End  
****04.14.05 / 05.28.2005 **

**Notes:  
**(1) Source: dictionary feature  
(2) The black and white reference was actually inspired by Weiss Kreuz.

**Author's Notes:**

When I had written this, I had memories inserted here and there and those were supposed to be the main focus of the story, but then, it grew and grew and grew and I had to leave the memories for another tale. I can't believe I initially finished this monster of a fic in just two days a little more than a month ago. This got so out of my control, that I have a tentative prequel already written to somewhat tame it in a way, so to speak.I don't even know what I feel about this since it is so different (and long, for a one-shot from me). sigh haha. But I had to get this out, or I would not have been able to move on to other works. Again, this is NOT an interactive story. Seeing a 'you' in the narrative doesn't immediately make it into one, all right:)

Thank you for reading. ;P


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